


Five Things that Never Happened to Waverly and Wynonna Earp

by burglebezzlement



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farmer's Market, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Storm Chasers, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Alternate Universe - The Hangover Fusion, Gen, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7183319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/pseuds/burglebezzlement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wynonna never ran a farmer's market stand, and Waverly never lost her Jeep in Vegas on her 21st birthday, and as far as we know from canon, neither of them have seen a tornado -- but wouldn't it be fun if they did? </p>
<p>A collection of five Wynonna & Waverly AUs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things that Never Happened to Waverly and Wynonna Earp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sixtywattgloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtywattgloom/gifts).



> Dear Every Woman recip: This isn't quite all the AU possibilities in the world, but hopefully it's an interesting subset! I had a lot of fun thinking about Wynonna and Waverly in other worlds. Hope you enjoy!

_**This one time, at band camp** _

Camp Director Nedley is sitting behind his desk, his best sorrow-not-anger expression on his face as he stares at Waverly and Wynonna Earp.

“I’d have expected this sort of thing from you, Wynonna.” He sighs. “It’s not every camper we’d let become a counselor after that stunt you pulled with the watermelon.”

Wynonna tries to keep her face in an expression of repentance, but he had to mention the watermelon — she’s fighting to hold back a grin.

“But you, Waverly!” Nedley turns to look at her. She’s still wrapped in an enormous bathrobe. “You’ve always been one of our most law-abiding campers.”

Waverly squishes a bit of water from her hair and shrugs. “Maybe it was time to follow in Wynonna’s footsteps.”

Wynonna turns to her. _”Waverly._ Don’t even joke about that.”

“The sight of you and Miss Haught skinny-dipping in broad daylight was very upsetting to the pottery class you disturbed,” Camp Director Nedley says sternly. “I’m just glad you didn’t decide to pull this stunt where the boy’s camp could see you.”

Waverly takes on all the blame, and promises never to do anything like this again if Nedley just won’t kick Nicole out. Nedley agrees, after another round of effusive apologies and an agreement for Waverly and Nicole to work dish duty for the rest of camp.

“So,” Wynonna says as they leave the camp office. “Why skinny dip outside the pottery studio instead of the boy’s camp?”

“The boy’s camp? You mean where you went skinny-dipping?”

“Some of us prefer having an audience,” Wynonna says, primly.

Waverly grins. “Maybe I had the audience I wanted.”

And when Wynonna thinks about her sister and her best friend Nicole — _well_. Maybe she should have seen this coming.

 

_**Salt & Earth** _

Waverly’s working on her homework when Wynonna gets in from the farmer’s market and slams a flat of Curtis’s tomatoes down on the kitchen table.

“The new _health inspector_ showed up again.”

“Like last week?” Waverly pushes back in her chair. Wynonna came in after farmer’s market last week in a rage, because some new Health Inspector from Purgatory Town Hall came in to inspect the vendors. Wynonna took it personal.

“No, not like last week,” Wynonna says now, sitting down in one of the chairs. “Last week he was hassling everyone. This week he was only hassling me.”

Wynonna spends all week bitching about the health inspector, until Waverly agrees to give up her Saturday to come down to the farmer’s market with her. Moral support. And maybe some curiosity in the mix, too.

Uncle Curtis used to be the one to sell his produce at the market, but he’s gladly given the job to Wynonna to cover, and now every Saturday Wynonna packs up the truck early with a folding table and boxes of Curtis’s vegetables — glossy tomatoes and bright yellow squash and delicate salad greens. Zucchini, in case there’s a tourist in town who doesn’t know that you’ll get anonymous zucchini left in your car in zucchini season if you’re not careful.

This week Waverly puts together some bouquets of flowers from the fields and Gus’s cutting flower garden to bring with them. Wynonna drives them down and they park in the town lot, edging the truck in carefully so they can unload the table and set out the vegetables.

It’s a busy Saturday and Waverly’s wrapping up one of her bouquets in newsprint for a customer when Wynonna nudges Waverly. “That’s him,” she mutters.

“Miss Earp,” he says, walking up to the table. He doesn’t _look_ like evil incarnate.

Wynonna’s just _glaring_ at him, so Waverly steps forward. “Hey,” she says, putting her hand out for him to shake. “I’m Wynonna’s sister, Waverly.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “Xavier Dolls. I’m the new town Health Inspector.”

“So what can we help you with?” Waverly asks, cheerfully, while Wynonna glowers beside her.

“Just stopping by,” he says. “Nice tomatoes.”

He looks over at Wynonna, who’s still got her _I will fight you_ face on. “Well. Stay cool out here, ladies.”

“See?” Wynonna hisses when he gets out of hearing range. “He’s targeting us, Waves.”

Waverly looks after him. First, the guy is seriously hot. And second….

“You’re an idiot,” Waverly tells her sister. “The guy _likes_ you.”

“What?” Wynonna stops glaring after Dolls to look at Waverly.

“Yeah.” Waverly picks up a pint of Curtis’s best blackberries and starts munching. “Dude likes you, Wynonna. I mean, yeah, he’s got questionable taste, but —”

“Shut up,” Wynonna says, knocking Waverly’s shoulder with her own. She looks back at Dolls, who’s walking away.

“Nice view,” Waverly says innocently.

“I will end you,” Wynonna says. But she’s not looking away.

Waverly still shares her blackberries.

 

_**Gloriam Reginae** _

Their father, the King, is dead.

The month since his passing has been filled with a thousand pointless meetings and ceremonies. Review of the armies for Queen-Apparent Wynonna. The parade of a thousand suitors for still-only-Princess Waverly.

This morning’s task is the review of the Crown jewels. Seneschals carry velvet-padded trays of gemstones past the sisters while the Keeper of the Gems murmurs history and asks them who will take what.

“Waverly?”

Princess Waverly turns to see her big sister, the Heir, looking at her in concern. “Are you — you look upset. Do you want to keep the tiara set you wore for your 16th birthday? I don’t care about keeping it with the Crown.”

“I don’t care about the crown jewels,” Waverly says, low and tight.

Wynonna sighs, and puts her arm around her little sister. “I know.”

“If —“ Waverly sets her head on Wynonna’s shoulder. “I wish we didn’t have to do this. Me getting married off and you staying here alone. I wish we both could be the Heir.”

Wynonna starts making soothing noises, something she’s been doing all month — and then she stops. “Waves. Why can’t we be?”

Waverly pulls back to look at her. Queen-Apparent Wynonna has that expression on her face, the one she always has when she’s about to do something stupid, like disguise herself to compete in the tournament with her own knights.

“I’m serious,” Wynonna says. “I’m about to be the Queen of this place. Who says I can’t choose my sister as Co-Regent?”

Many counselors will try to sway her. But with her loyal knights, Wynonna will keep Waverly by her side.

When the coronation comes, it will be a coronation of two Queens, equal in consequence but different in their abilities.

Their people will come to call them the Queens of Iron and Honey. Queen Wynonna, Queen of Iron, ruthless but fair, the leader of her people and defender of her borders against all threats. And Queen Waverly, Queen of Honey, just and wise, knowledgable in the ways of agriculture and development, and friend to the downtrodden.

 

_**Chase the Wind, Ride the Lightning** _

Waverly’s the one with the meteorology degree, but Wynonna’s the one who got them started on storm chasing.

Wynonna had just left another McJob under mysterious circumstances, the mystery being whether she got fired or quit first. Waverly was at home with her research, and Wynonna got curious about what the brightly-colored charts on Waverly’s laptop screen meant.

That’s when Waverly showed her the videos. Tornadoes. Thunderstorms. Hail the size of golf balls, hurling down onto green fields. Wynonna went from YouTube videos to basic cable shows and then one morning, she showed up with the car keys and said hey, there’s a storm brewing two states over. You want to check it out?

They got lucky that first day, and saw a tiny tornado, barely developed enough to touch the ground, but when it bit into that Nebraska field and the dirt flew up, Wynonna was hooked.

Waverly does the research, and Wynonna drives. Hours, days of driving, through more corn fields than anyone could believe exist on a single planet. They usually get enough footage in a season to sell to the networks, pay for the chasing, and maybe let Waverly buy some more instruments to launch into next season’s tornadoes.

Today they wake up in South Dakota. Classic storm chasing territory, but it’s getting to the end of the season. The bread from their crap motel’s breakfast bar tastes stale and Waverly tries to cover up the flavor with peanut butter that won’t spread.

“These are not things that should be allowed to call themselves donuts,” Wynonna says, sitting down next to Waverly to look over her shoulder at the models.

“Yeah.” Waverly takes another sip of coffee that’s an insult to dishwater and slides the laptop towards Wynonna. “Which area do you like?”

Wynonna studies the model images carefully. Waverly might be the meteorologist, but Wynonna’s got a freaky storm-chasing sense that lets her choose the right chase most of the time.

“We go northeast,” Wynonna says, now, so they pack up their shitty breakfast for the road.

It’s a day of driving under cornfields before they meet the storm at a crossroads. It’s a sprawling monster, lightning flashing up in the distant clouds. Wynonna shuts off the GPS and starts into the network of dirt farm roads, side-running the storm. The smell of the air coming in the open car windows shifts from dirt and growing things to a wilder scent.

And then they’re there. Wynonna throws the car into park, grabs the cameras and hoists herself up onto the window frame of the car door, sets the GoPro into the roof mount she installed and holds the hand-cam. Waverly stays inside the car, but she keeps the window open. For now.

The storm comes quietly, at first, but then the wind starts to shriek and the corn in the fields lashes like someone is beating it down from above. Wynonna keeps the camera steady, twists the Go-Pro in its mount to face the storm.

When the finger of the storm twists down, it’s almost hesitant at first, and then it gathers strength and plunges to the ground, setting dirt spraying up from the fields below. It dances in the fields, ripping corn stalks up in its wake, idling across the roadways as it sucks dirt up into the vortex around its base.

They watch the twister until the rain comes and blocks the view of the storm.

Finally, Wynonna drops back down into the car. Her face is wet with rain.

Waverly grins at her. This is the real reason she chases: the expression on Wynonna’s face after she’s seen another storm, watched another confluence of low-pressure systems twist into something awe-inspiring and terrible.

“On to the next one?”

“On to the next one.”

 

**_Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes, now_**

This is why you don’t go to Vegas for your 21st birthday.

When Waverly wakes up, aged 21 years and one day, her mouth is dry and tastes like dead booze. She’s got a crushing headache and her arms and legs feel like someone’s been beating on them with a sack of quarters.

Chrissy and Steph are in the room — Waverly checks that first. Steph’s next to her on the bed, still asleep, still wearing a tiny black dress. She’s only partly under the sheets. She’s also snoring loud enough for the people next door to file a noise complaint. Chrissy’s asleep on the couch. Someone’s drawn half of a mustache on her face.

The lamps are on the floor. The blinds are half-off the window. Someone’s written WHOHO WAVERLYE 21 WE LUV U on the wall — in Magenta Dragon lipstick, which means the suspect list is short and reads STEPH.

_It’s okay_ , Waverly tells herself. She pulls herself out of bed and stands on unsteady legs. _It’s just property damage. We can fix this._

And then she goes to the window and looks out — and the Jeep’s not in the parking lot.

She _remembers_ parking the Jeep. Remembers putting the keys in her pocket. Remembers telling the others that they’re Ubering it from then on because she is going to be a responsible 21 year old on her birthday.

“Shit.” She says it out loud, but neither Chrissy or Steph wake up at the sound.

Her wallet’s not anywhere she can see. But she’s got her cell phone.

She checks the clock, decides it’s too early to call, and then decides to call anyway.

“Wynonna?”

She can almost _feel_ her sister thinking about whether or not to kill her on the other end of the line.

“Waverly? Why are you calling at 5 AM?”

“I think we messed up,” Waverly says.

Wynonna gets there just in time for check-out time, which means she sped all the way from Purgatory. The maid’s there, trying to get into the room while Waverly tries to block her.

“Waves?” Wynonna looks at her first. “You okay?”

Waverly nods.

“Right.” Wynonna turns to the maid and hands her some money and mutters something in Spanish. The maid looks at the door, and then turns away.

“I paid up another night downstairs,” Wynonna says, slipping into the room.

Waverly’s spent the last couple hours taking a shower and putting on a normal outfit, instead of a tight dress that was not designed to be slept in, and looking for her wallet (failure).

Wynonna inspects the room and then claps her hands, loud enough to startle Chrissy awake. “Right! Plan for everyone.” She nudges Steph with her boot until she wakes up. “Steph, you pay attention to this.”

“This is the plan. Me and my sister are going to find the Jeep. You two idiots are going to clean yourselves up, make a pot of coffee, and clean the crap out of this room. My little sister is not getting charged because you idiots decided to trash her hotel room. Understood?”

Chrissy’s already picking up the stuff spilled from her suitcase, but Steph takes another glare from Wynonna before she falls in line. Wynonna has her scrubbing at the wall before they head out.

In the hallway, Wynonna puts an arm around Waverly and hugs her. “So. How does it feel to be twenty-one?”

“Terrible,” Waverly says.

Wynonna laughs. “No worries, baby girl. We’re going to find that car. Where do you remember it last?”

“In the hotel parking lot,” Waverly says, miserably.

But when they find the Jeep in the parking lot of the Elvis Revue, the driver’s seat covered in glitter, Waverly gets this vague flash of asking the King to drive them to his castle. And maybe some part of her isn’t entirely surprised.


End file.
